


Like You Mean It

by onekisstotakewithme



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Kibbs, based on a tumblr prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 17:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/pseuds/onekisstotakewithme
Summary: Based on a list of kissing tropes, my friend prompted me to write them... I couldn't help but oblige."Kiss me like you mean it"... anyone?This is unashamedly Kibbs, and dedicated to minikate--24--05 my dear.





	Like You Mean It

#2- _“_ _ pulling back just for a second to try to regain control before realizing they don’t want to be in control and diving back in” _

She had crashed into him and it had cost nearly everything in him to not kiss her, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. She was so beautiful, God help him, and he’d leaned in to kiss her, to fully embrace her, the way he should have months before, the way he should have the day he hired her. It had taken a submarine, an emergency blow, and three months to get to this point, but when he leaned in and brushed his lips against her, she’d frozen, and he’d panicked inside, before she _melted_ into him, and god _damn_ he knew he was doing the right thing.

She pulled away for a second, his name breathless on her lips. He could see that she wrestling with her own mind, fighting an internal battle with the code of conduct, with the unspoken rule of agents not being involved with each other.

And then she shook her head, cupping his face in her hands and leaning back in, pressing her lips to his desperately, a white flag, a truce, relinquishing the control to him. As he kissed her back, he knew he was doing the right thing- for once. And yet he was astonished that after dreaming for so long of Caitlin Todd, pressed against him, lips against his, here she was. And it wasn’t a dream.

#5- _“that moment where the world just stops and A stares into B’s eyes and they know they shouldn’t, but they kiss anyway”_

He was running towards her, surrounded by members of the FBI, surrounded by federal agents of the whole alphabet, his own team lost in the shuffle, and then she was in his arms.

She was alive, and well, except for a split lip that he looked over worriedly. He was examining her with his eyes, praying to a God he didn’t even believe in that she was okay, terrified of losing her. He’d spent the day searching for her, because God help him, he loved her.

How could he have been so foolish to not tell her before now? His search for Ari had consumed him, enveloped him until Kate was no longer his priority. Rule 12 had turned him into a fool, but he would gladly trade away each and every one of his rules to make sure she stayed alive and in his arms.

She was staring up into his eyes, and he was sure that it was written all over his face. She was looking into his eyes, brown into blue, and he could read what she was thinking. It hit him then that however he felt for her, she loved him too. There were people rushing all around, and now sirens in the distance, but he couldn’t care less. His world had shrunken down to the woman in front of him. She smiled, and he knew it had to hurt, with her split lip. He ran a thumb gently over her lip, unable to stop himself.

They shouldn’t.

Gibbs reached down, gently cupping her face in his hands, and then brushed his lips against hers, feeling her go weak at the knees- perhaps from the shock and relief of being found- and it didn’t matter that they were surrounded by other people. And besides, he had always enjoyed doing things he shouldn’t do. And from the way she responded, he knew she enjoyed it too.

#8- _“foreheads pressed into each others’, sharing breath, until they dive back in for more because they thought they were done but they so were not.”_

It was her who had initiated it that time, her lips sweet and slick with the bourbon, and now here they were. He was holding her up against the boat, his pride and joy, and she was warm and smiling and slightly drunk, but then so was he. Drunk Kate was something he enjoyed seeing, and he thought it a privilege, a miracle that she was even there.

Kate in his basement was something he was not used to, and that was something he couldn’t stop being amazed about. She loved him. She enjoyed spending time with him.

They had stopped, her forehead leaned against his, breathing in and out together, and she was looking into his eyes. Her eyes were brown, and deep, but full of an unguarded love that she would never reveal to him while sober. He could never mind that she only showed this side in private. It was something he couldn’t bear to share with the team.

“God, Katie,” he murmured breathlessly, “Do ya know what ya do to me?”

She grinned. “I have some idea,” she said, nudging her hips against him.

And even though he thought it was over, it apparently was never over. She reached for him, at the same time he reached down, their lips meeting in the middle, reaching the same agreement, the same conclusion: they were trouble, and damn it, they loved it.

10- _“the desperate pant/groan of surrender when either party knows that they are sooooooo done”_

He had had enough.

They were undercover, and she was so damn tantalizing in that dress, a seductive smile on her lips as she beckoned to him, that he could almost pretend it wasn’t real.

He could pretend that he usually spent time frolicking in hotel rooms with Special Agent Caitlin Todd.

His mouth was dry as he watched her, and she raised her eyebrows at him, “Something bothering you, Jethro?”

His lips curved into an answering smirk as he walked over to her, “Now Katie, I think we both know the answer to that.”

She reached up, her hands on the back of his head, pulling him into a desperate, needy kiss, as his hands frantically worked at the zipper of her dress, wanting her desperately. She kissed him like she hadn’t seen him in months, like she couldn’t bear to not have him pressed against her for another second, her mouth open to his, and she tilted her hips dangerously close to him, her entire body warm and welcoming to him, and he swore to God that this was quite possibly the best moment of his life-

She pulled away, and then smirked again as he groaned helplessly. “Something wrong?” she asked innocently.

“Come back here, damn it!” he said.

“Are you prepositioning me, Jethro?”

“Come here,” he pleaded, knowing that he would quite possibly never live down the groan, that had somehow escaped his lips in the heat of the moment.

“If you insist,” there was a grin on her face as she obliged.


End file.
